


Mile High Club

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: The Strokes
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-07
Updated: 2003-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perks of being a rock star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mile High Club

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving some stuff over from Livejournal.

Fab had been sort of against the idea of a private jet when it was first brought up, but now for the life of him he can't remember why.  
  
"Always wanted to fuck on a plane," Nick slurs, eyes blurry and bright over the edge of the seat. He laughs a little and takes another sip of his wine, or champagne, or whatever it is that he's drinking - he's lost track long ago. He rears up on his knees and leans over the back of the seat, hands finding their way onto Fab's shoulders as he tries not to wobble, tries not to fall over.  
  
"Wanna fuck?" he whispers conspiratorally, eyes dodging from side to side, keeping a lookout for anyone who might be listening. As though no one heard him a minute ago, Fab thinks, and grins, shaking his head.  
  
"Albert is puking in the bathroom," he answers, with just a tinge of regret in his voice.  
  
"Oh," Nick says, and frowns. He thinks for a minute, brow creasing, and then sets his wine - champagne - whatfuckingever - on the tray and hurtles over the back of the seat with amazing agility, landing with a thud on the seat next to Fab.  
  
"Tha's better," he mutters, then leans over and kisses Fab, hard and sloppy, clambering onto his lap to get closer, one leg on either side of Fab's.  
  
"Mm," mumbles Fab against his lips, and then, "fuck, Nick, don't -"  
  
"Shh," says Nick, fumbling with the zipper of Fab's too tight jeans, "shut up. Everybody is _sleeping_ anyway."  
  
Fab looks around, and it's true - Nikolai's got his head pillowed on Julian's shouder, eyes shut tight, and Julian's snoring loud enough to wake the dead. He obeys readily, arching up so Nick can tug the denim down from his hips, letting out a hiss through his teeth as a warm hand encircles his cock and starts to move. "Jesus," he sighs, one hand coming up to grasp the back of Nick's dirty t-shirt, the other tight around the armrest. "Christ, _yeah_."  
  
Nick twists his wrist and licks his lips, and that - the sight of his tongue, shinypink and wet - that's what sends Fab over, shuddering and bucking up, coming hard in Nick's hand.  
  
The perks of being a rock star, he thinks with a smile, pulling Nick down for another kiss, hands scrabbling at the button-fly of the other boy's jeans.


End file.
